George Gordon Noel Byron

How chang'd since last her speaking eye
Glanc'd gladness round the glitt'ring room,
Where high-born men were read more

How chang'd since last her speaking eye
Glanc'd gladness round the glitt'ring room,
Where high-born men were proud to wait--
Where Beauty watched to imitate.

For what were all these country patriots born?
To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?

For what were all these country patriots born?
To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?

An infant when it gazes on a light,
A child the moment when it drains the breast,
read more

An infant when it gazes on a light,
A child the moment when it drains the breast,
A devotee when soars the Host in sight,
An Arab with a stranger for a guest,
A sailor when the prize has struck in fight,
A miser filling his most hoarded chest,
Feel rapture; but not such true joy are reaping
As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping.

The devil's in the moon for mischief; they
Who call'd her chaste, methinks, began too soon
Their read more

The devil's in the moon for mischief; they
Who call'd her chaste, methinks, began too soon
Their nomenclature; there is not a day,
The longest, not the twenty-first of June,
Sees half the business in a wicked way,
On which three single hours of moonshine smile--
And then she looks so modest all the while!

And one by one in turn, some grand mistake
Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.

And one by one in turn, some grand mistake
Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.